Chapter 6
Chapter Six
There were about ten new faces in the drawing room, more men than women, of varying ages but all, apparently, “dear friends” of Mrs Tessier.
She loudly introduced every person, vigorously shaking hands with her bejewelled fingers and telling each person how glad she was they were at Woodcote.
Her good cheer infused the already spirited party.
Elizabeth had hoped for a subdued evening with conversation or music so she could spend more time with Darcy, but it was apparent it was a rowdier group.
“Let us play Buffy Gruffy,” called one of the guests. Elizabeth was certain that wherever he had begun his evening, wine had been a significant part of it.
“We should have the interrogator use a more tactile method to determine their object rather than questioning,” suggested Sir John Whitney.
A delighted murmur went through the group.
“Go first, Sir John,” said another guest, and one of the ladies tied a neckerchief around Sir John’s eyes. Everyone changed places and he was spun in a circle.
In the typical game, one determined who they stumbled into by asking questions, and the found person would throw their voice to baffle them.
This group had decided lap sitting and patting should replace the questions.
It was not a strange adaptation, but she had no patience for such fun now.
When she met Darcy’s eye across the circle, she wished everyone away so she could learn if his gaze meant what she hoped it did.
Did he want to kiss her as much as she wanted him to do it?
Sir John stumbled forward and staggered between where Elizabeth sat by another lady. His knees bumped their chairs, and whilst she hoped he would shift to the other lady, he moved to his right and stood before her. She contained a huff of displeasure.
“I seem to have found a lady,” he cried, feeling the skirt’s fabric through his knees. He blindly stretched out a hand above her head and then came down on it, knocking her hair comb into her skull.
“A young lady, I suspect. I feel no cap, so it is not Lady Metcalfe, Mrs Tessier, or Mrs Morrissey.” His arm went wide and his hand came down to pat her sleeve. “A small sleeve, not as puffed as I noticed on pretty Miss Morrissey or Lady Jerome.”
Sir John then made an open, grabbing gesture with his hands in front of him and said, “There is another way to decide who it is, if the lady would permit?”
“Sir John!” cried Darcy, standing instantly.
Many guests laughed, although there were just as many averted gazes and cries that he had gone too far. She knew very well what Sir John indicated. If knowing how he spent his afternoon and all the things he suggested to “Bennet” had not repulsed her, this surely would.
“What is the matter?” Sir John laughed at his own joke. “I could know in an instant if this was Miss Metcalfe.”
Elizabeth had no complaints about her figure, but Julia was a full-breasted woman. This was a bawdy group. Darcy looked positively livid, and she admired him all the more because she knew he would be as outraged on her behalf whether he loved her or not.
“I would not be insulted,” called Julia from the other side of the room, “so long as you got the answer right.”
“Well, I recognise your voice, Miss Metcalfe, so that leaves me to conclude this lady must be Miss Bennet.”
There was a smattering of applause, but not all found Sir John amusing. Darcy glared at him thunderously, but Elizabeth gave him a look to tell him to keep his patience, that there was no harm done. He slowly sat, keeping his eyes on her, and she wondered what he was thinking.
“Perhaps we should shift our method toward how the game is typically played?” asked Henry. He looked mortified, as did a few of the other guests, who seconded his suggestion.
Their next rounds were tamer. There was a mix of asking questions with some touching.
It seemed those who had a prior acquaintance with the blindfolded interrogator were more inclined to allow those liberties.
Those disinclined threw their voices high or low to hint their preference for a verbal interrogation rather than a physical one.
Some had their coats stroked, their sleeves ruffled, their laps sat upon, but nothing was offensive as Sir John had been. It was only a little flirtatious, a chance to have some light-hearted freedom, much like she had enjoyed today wearing breeches.
Darcy persevered amid the hilarity of having knees stroked and large people sitting across small ones, but he was seriously displeased with Sir John.
She tried to give Darcy another private smile to say all was well since they were kept apart the entire game.
Their day together at Epsom was not enough to satisfy her when Julia hung over him.
She sat by him every time they exchanged their seats, and he struggled to keep his forbearance with her flirtations.
Elizabeth felt the same impatience with the evening as Darcy. Why would she want to spend an evening with games amongst strangers when she could instead sit by Darcy’s side, talk with him, and enjoy being with him? Try to convince him that he wanted to ask her again to marry him?
Elizabeth was the last to take a turn and when she was blindfolded, everyone changed places.
She carefully took a few steps and was drawn to her left.
Her knees hit someone, and she felt in the air that it was Darcy.
There was no sensible way to explain how she knew.
Perhaps she was attuned to him now that she had come to love him.
Some rule of motion was at play. She had previously, foolishly, been repelled but now was attracted. For the sake of the game, she had to pretend she did not know who it was.
Pushing her knee out, she said, “I feel no skirts, so it must be a gentleman.” He did not say anything to disguise his voice, so he must not mind if she touched him to play the game.
She nudged his foot with her own. “There is no shoe buckle so, I am afraid to say, it is not one of our older friends.”
The group gave a chuckle as she felt his shoulder.
She could end the game now, or she could use it to touch him a little more.
She heard Darcy exhale as she moved her hand to his arm muscle, pretending to feel the fabric.
His coat’s lapels and buttons were then investigated, and it seemed he stopped breathing.
“Velvet lapels and fabric buttons narrow my choices, but I am not certain who this is.”
She could be bold. It was all part of the game, and he could not truly mind.
He was a generous man who did not resent her past foolishness.
Maybe it would reassure him if he was uncertain if her feelings for him had changed.
Elizabeth placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and perched across his lap.
She felt him tense, as if every muscle in his body contracted at once.
“Can you compare his whiskers to the rest of the group?” one lady called.
Elizabeth put a gentle hand on his cheek to pretend to consider, making a thoughtful sound as she did.
She was hot all over. This was exceedingly bold.
She was essentially saying, “Here I am; do you love me?” She then brought her other hand to his chest, pretending to feel his waistcoat.
“I have to see if it is double-breasted or single-breasted.”
His heart raced away under her hand. Being this close to him overpowered all her senses.
She could not see him, but it felt as though he were everywhere.
He was extraordinarily still, and it took all of her sense of decorum not to find his lips with hers.
She felt his shallow breath against her own lips, and was envisioning his lips in her mind and imagining the feel of them.
It was best to end the game before she fully betrayed how much she loved him.
“A young man, with fabric buttons, short whiskers, and a single-breasted waistcoat? I have found Mr Darcy.”
Whilst everyone clapped, she took off her blindfold with a grin.
Darcy was absolutely silent, his eyes full of fire.
Was he annoyed that she had touched him and sat in his lap?
He could have thrown his voice to show he did not want to be touched in front of the others. Had she made a terrible mistake?
“The game is now over, Miss Bennet,” snivelled Julia, who sat next to Darcy and looked like she was about to shove her off his lap.
She scrambled to her feet as Lady Metcalfe recommended they pay their forfeits for wrong guesses.
Just like yesterday, Kiss if You Can, Kiss the One You Love Best, Kiss the Nun, and all the other forfeits involving more kisses than hilarity were chosen.
There were many combinations of couples who had harmless, chaste embraces, Darcy included—although never with her.
Julia threw her a triumphant smirk when she and Darcy were paired for Fishing for a Kiss. “He is a good kisser,” Julia hissed in her ear when she walked past her when they were done.
It stung, but her senseless envy had no just cause. Even if Darcy no longer loved her, he had no feelings for Julia. Besides, their forfeit kiss had been a scant touch that Darcy pulled back from quickly.
But Darcy did not talk to her as they paid their forfeits. They were never paired, but they were often near each other, and he rarely opened his lips. He looked at her a great deal, though. It was a steadfast gaze, but Elizabeth could not say how much admiration was in its intensity.
Whilst the group discussed what to do next, Lady Metcalfe called for a candle to go to bed. “I will let the young people stay up late with more games. Mary, I can trust you to mind my Julia? And Miss Bennet too,” she added joylessly.
“I am for bed as well, Mrs Tessier,” said Mr Travers before asking her for a candle.
“You can share mine,” offered Lady Metcalfe.